


the first of many

by tsunderestorm



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M, Post-Recall, Pre-Recall, Trans Genji Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 02:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9636110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: Jesse just wants to take Genji on one date. Just one, really - that's all he's asking. The best laid plans, and all that.Or, alternatively: five dates that don't work out and one that does.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [apocryphic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocryphic/gifts).



> hello wolves! I know you had to drop out of the exchange due to rl obligations, but I had already written your fic and I wanted you to have it anyway. :) I hope you enjoy it! One of my favorite fics of yours is weak point so I wanted to try and incorporate that kind of dynamic into some of their interactions here.

“Hell, no!” Jesse baits the guy attacking him. He’s got a gun with three times as many rounds as his old six-shooter and a mean look in his eye that he doesn’t like one bit, but Jesse McCree isn’t one to back down. Never has been, never will be; not when he was a punk kid in a gang and sure as hell not now that he’s Blackwatch’s dead shot, Reyes’ right hand and a _damn_ good agent.

“Sorry mister,” he apologizes with a wink as he dodges a fan of bullets, “but I got a date with a real fine boy tonight and I ain’t about to let him down.” He wonders if Genji is watching - he never knows when he’s there, after all - never hears him until the ninja is right there behind him with the dull edge of his sword pressed to the base of his spine, never sees him until shuriken hit the ground beside him as a warning and Genji follows seconds later. He _hopes_ Genji is watching, hopes he can appreciate the way Jesse spins his gun before he levels it and - _bang_.

The guy goes down easy when Jesse gets serious, but then everything goes wrong all at once. Suddenly there are three attackers where none had stood a few seconds before and he's surrounded, cut off and outnumbered. He doesn’t know the streets of Hanamura the way he knows others, doesn’t know where people could be hiding and all he can think of is Genji. Genji alone at the ramen shop he’d given him directions to. Genji waiting for a too-reckless boyfriend who, if this day didn’t start looking up in a big way in the next few seconds, might never show up.

He fires once, twice and turns on his heel, heart hammering in his chest and blood rushing in his ears. The third shot clips the guy and the fourth one ends him, but not before his bullet rips through Jesse’s right arm, exploding in a rush of searing pain that tears muscle and breaks bone. All he can think as he hears Gabe yelling into his comm is _fuck_ , _there goes the other one_.

When he wakes up in a hospital room, Genji is not at the ramen shop they were supposed to meet at. Instead he’s there, perched at the foot of Jesse’s bed, still in one piece. So are, Jesse notices, both of his arms – one metal, one flesh, swaddled in gauze and hurting like hell. Jesse slows his own breathing to focus on the comforting sound of Genji’s: soft and slow, in tune with the quiet whir of processors and cooling systems that keep his body afloat. The green lights are more subdued, less blinding neon and more a soft, nightlight glow.

It’s soothing, having him here, even if Jesse knows his boyfriend’s seen enough of hospital rooms and doctors to last him a dozen lifetimes. He thinks Genji might be sleeping, unmoving as he is, but when he tries to sit up to tug him in closer his arm screams in protest. Slowly, he closes his eyes to focus on leveling his breathing again, to focus on anything but the rising tide of searing pain blossoming in his right side.

“Stupid cowboy,” Genji chides, and Jesse can feel him rising to his knees so he can crawl closer, up to snuggle in close to Jesse’s good side. “You were supposed to take me on a date tonight. And this? Isn’t a very good spot.”

“I know, I know! I was really excited about it too…” Jesse laments. He’d really been looking forward to that ramen, had been looking forward to learning more about what Genji had liked before everything went to hell. Looking forward to helping Genji regain some sense of normalcy for the first time in months – hell, he doesn’t even know if Genji needs to eat, or if he even can.

“Guess it ain’t much of a date if one of us is down for the count, huh?”

Genji shakes his head slowly, crawling to sandwich himself in between Jesse’s bulk and the hard-plastic railing of the hospital bed, resting his head atop Jesse’s broad chest. It leaves the smooth crown of his visor open for an eagerly-given tender kiss, but Jesse isn’t off the hook yet. “I overheard Commander Reyes reviewing your report. You were reckless.”

“I was ambushed-” Jesse defends, voice muffled as his lips mash against Genji’s visor, struck dumb in the middle of trying to give another kiss. “I thought I’d gotten them all…”

“You were showing off.” Genji says, wriggling so his arm isn’t trapped under him as badly and bringing the other to Jesse’s belly, tracing the ugly pattern of the hospital gown idly, traveling farther over to pat down a flyaway piece of tape on his bandaged arm. There’s still a bit of blood crusted on the underside of Jesse’s forearm and he picks at it, flaking it off and letting it fall to the pristine white sheets below. Silent, again unmoving.

Jesse laughs after a few long seconds and thinks _shit, got myself caught._ “I hoped you were watching. At least, you know...before it all went to shit there at the end.”

Genji doesn’t speak, just continues to worry his fingers at the edge of the bandage covering Jesse’s bullet wound. It’s not exactly a comfortable feeling so close to such a fresh injury; Genji’s fingers are rough and demanding but the bright flares of pain light something up in Jesse, something greedy and dangerous. He doesn’t even consider asking him to stop, doesn’t consider even breathing.

“Please treat this body carefully.” Genji says even as he’s _poking_ at it, kneading the bruised skin around the bandage almost punishingly. Jesse’s a glutton for it. “I know you are good, _gunslinger_ , but you are only human.”

They both know the words are going in one ear and out the other. Jesse has a self-destructive streak as wide as Deadlock gorge; a low-down loathing for himself that's never quite gone away no matter how many times he tells himself he’s a good guy, now. A hero. It's a moot point, too, for practical reasons. They both know if Jesse went down on a mission, Overwatch would rebuild him just as they did Genji. Graft his skin and mend his bones, remake him in the image of perfection. Genji doesn’t want that for him; not this enhanced, weaponized half-life. This hell of hatred and anger.

“Aw, honey...” Jesse says as Genji straddles his waist when Jesse tries to sit up in bed effectively holding him down and reminding him that dammit, sometimes a little time in the med bay is worth it. He sets Jesse’s injured arm on his thigh so he can cradle it and keep it still even as Jesse’s fidgeting in complaint below him. “I ain't gonna hold back and you know it. Then who would you have to compete with for takedowns?’

It's a joke. Their game, silly as it is, maybe even a little morbid. Their way of forgetting that they're disposable soldiers in a war that doesn't really exist any longer, not secret agents like Jesse’s movies but not quite military operatives either. They’re stuck somewhere in between at the whim of the UN. Jesse’s laughing, mostly because that’s his go-to reaction. It’s easy: calms himself and everyone else down. Genji isn't. He's sitting still as a statue, hands cupped under Jesse’s bruised wrist as he stares him down, the glow of his visor sharp and bright again. Jesse can’t see his face but he knows the expression he’s wearing - patchy brows furrowed, mouth unmoving, frustrated or disappointed. Both, he imagines.

“Treat this body with the same love and affection that I would,” Genji pleads and all Jesse can do in response is grin. Childish, cheeky. Charming, he knows, even when Genji is in one of his moods.

“Well honey,” he drawls, “there are some ways you treat this body that I think I just can't replicate on my own.” His free hand slides down Genji’s hip and tugs him against him, squeezing a greedy handful of his ass and doing a bang-up job of fighting off the wince as pain shoots up his arm. Sighing, he lets his injured arm fall to the bed before it gets trapped between them.

“ _Jesse_ ,” Genji scolds as he smacks his good hand away. “I won’t forget this. You owe me.”

“I owe you,” Jesse repeats as Genji surges forward and throws his arms around Jesse's neck. _I'm happy it was just your arm,_ the hug says. _Better a ruined date than a dead boyfriend._

_\--_

“Agent McCree.” Gabe’s voice is tinny, crackling over their outdated comms. Blackwatch tech leaves a lot to be desired as usual, and the storm isn’t doing the shabby connection one bit of good. “There's a storm blowing in. Extraction’s delayed until morning. Satellite mapping shows there’s a cabin nearby. Stop there, check in, and turn off your device.”

“Got it, boss.” Jesse says, almost yelling to be heard over the roar of the mountain wind. Glancing over at Genji plodding along beside him, he gets a nod of acknowledgement and he knows the ninja heard the orders too. It’s unsurprising, but upsetting nonetheless – they’re two days from Valentine’s day, two days to the big plans he’d made. Plans that are slowly vanishing in wisps of smoke in his mind, blown away by the wind howling all around them just like what feels like every bit of warmth his body has ever possessed.

He thinks about the Valentine’s gift he has for Genji back at base - a new scarf with a print of glistening scales. He’d bought it in Paris at a boutique he didn’t belong in, an anachronism among futuristic designs. It was silk, he thought, from the way it shifted with the light, the way it shined no matter what angle he looked at it from. Like a mermaid, a woman at the boutique had said. _No_ , he’d told her, _like a dragon_.  He’d never seen Genji change the one he wore streaming from his helmet and it had seemed so _perfect_ when he’d seen it. He’s not going to get to give it to him. At least, not on time.

Fuck, his feet ache. He's forgotten what it's like to have toes instead of ten tiny icicles and he wonders what it's like to be warm and dry instead of chilled and damp. He doesn’t mind doing his job, especially when the company is one very cute cyborg ninja, but it’s gone on long enough. The instructions had been simple – after the Shimada clan fell, a small group of them had retreated into the mountains, spreading out to safe houses older than most of its members. Their mission was to bring them down, and bring them down they had.

Jesse has never seen Genji move like he had on this mission - faster than a bullet, a blur of silver and green as he wound his spirit dragon around his sword and went to work. He’d never seen a blade wreak so much carnage, never thought of a sword as any kind of silent until he watched Genji strike once, twice, bringing down three of an elder’s bodyguards before rounding on the man himself. The only sound he’d ever heard clearly was the sharp _whip_ of an object slicing air, a metallic ringing in the air that made his blood run cold.

It was the aftermath that was causing them trouble - after they'd climbed all the way up into the mountains the weather wasn't conducive to bringing in a transport. Gabe had tried and tried, but they just couldn’t get approval - couldn’t get a pilot willing to fly that high in a helicopter and couldn’t get them safely to a runway, remote as they were.

“Guess we should listen to Gabe, huh,” Jesse says as they tromp through snow up to their knees, stamping his feet to remind himself that they’re still there even if he can’t feel them. “Find that cabin.”

When they locate the thing, it proves to be small but sturdy, tucked under an outcropping that seems more ice than stone. Genji enters first, left hand on the hilt of his short sword and right on the hilt of his katana: predatory, careful, and Jesse lets him be. He’s got his gun drawn, focused on the windows, the shed to the left of it - _daring_ someone to come out, daring someone to _try_ to hurt Genji. Genji appears in the doorway after a short investigation, beckoning Jesse inside. He locks the deadbolt as soon as the door shuts behind him, strips his thick glove off and flexes his fingers to return the blood flow. The cabin is old - half-rotten wood, rickety floorboards, a vicious draft that chills when the wind wheezes and groans outside. For tonight, it’s home.

There’s an old stove in the corner beside some firewood so old and dry it’s crumbling to dust so he knows they can at least survive the night, but for now it’s damn near as cold inside as it is out. When he moves to holster his pistol, it’s is so cold it burns his skin to touch and mumbling, he muses “Wouldn't wanna get my tongue stuck to _that_.”

“Hmm?”

Sheepishly, he answers. “Y’know, like when you licked signposts as a kid.”

“Are you telling me to lick your gun?” Genji asks, and Jesse can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s making a joke. _Fine_ , he thinks, _I can shoot that straight back at you, baby._

“Only if you're interested,” Jesse says, crossing the small main room of the cabin and holding out his pistol. Genji lets it hover right in front of his face before he shoves it away with a wave of his hand and a playful taunt. _Not so fast, cowboy_. Defeated, Jesse moves to the corner of the room and piles some of the smallest pieces of wood into the stove and pulls out his cigarette lighter to ignite them. They flare to life with a few sharp cracks and slowly, he feeds more wood into the stove until the warmth radiating from it is enough to breathe life back into him.

“It's going to be a long night,” Genji comments when Jesse sits back and admires the fire he’s built. “Would you like to rest?”

“I feel like if I sleep, I'll die. I ain't ever been this cold before.” Jesse whines, and it’s the truth. He wasn’t made for this - sure, it gets cold in the desert when the sun goes down but it’s nothing compared to weather they’ve battled all day. He’s cold down to his bones and he feels like his blood has frozen solid in his veins.

“I would never let that happen.”

“Don’t I know it.” Jesse says as he kicks off his cold-stiffened leather boots and strips off his wet socks. “Because I owe you a date, right?”

“Because I care far too much about you to let you freeze to death squatting in a log cabin in the mountains,” Genji answers, holding out a ration from their shared pack. “But yes, you do still owe me a date.”

Overnight becomes the next night, and then another, and by the clock on Jesse’s comm, it’s the fourteenth. Valentine’s day. The cabin is no more welcoming than it was when they first arrived, the wind outside no less an eerie howl, the cold no less painful but now it all seems irrelevant. The pile of firewood is dwindling and they don’t particularly care, not when there is the warmth from each other’s bodies. Jesse’s gotten addicted to the feel of Genji against him, of skin both synthetic and organic under his fingertips, of Genji’s hands that heat his body more than any fire ever could.

“Extraction at 1100. We’ve mapped your position, just stay there,” Gabe tells him when he checks in around 7 a.m., tapping the comm in his ear and trying to focus on his commander’s instructions even as Genji is nipping at his neck, chilled hands all over his chest and belly as he spoons up behind him. Jesse says _got it, boss_ , but he can’t help the way his breath hitches, can’t help the chuckle that slips out when Gabe curses and says “You had better be decent, McCree.”

“Guess if there are people digging us out of this snow-infested hell we should put our clothes on, huh?” Jesse asks, lighting up a cigarette and taking a long drag. “We were just gettin’ to the good part, too.”

For days, they’ve occupied a single sleeping bag and if he’s being perfectly honest, Jesse isn’t in too much of a hurry to get back to base. Jesse’s jeans and hoodie are discarded in a haphazard pile atop his boots and Genji’s armor is littered around it.

“Hmm, not yet,” Genji says and pulls Jesse back into the sleeping bag they’ve been sharing. It’s barely big enough for Jesse’s bulk, but it’s easier to fit two people inside when they’re so close Jesse’s damn near inside him.

“You owe me for another ruined date,” Genji whispers later as they board the helicopter, as they listen to Morrison and Reyes and a lot of questions to answer.

Leaning over to press a kiss to Genji’s scarred cheek even as their bosses tell them with matching sighs to keep it professional, he whispers  “I owe you."

\--

Genji’s got his own demons, Jesse knows. Lucky for him, though, they get along nicely with his own. He knows that. He knows Genji doesn’t _really_ want to die, most days, but dammit if it doesn’t scare him half to death to see him jump in front of enemy fire for him. It’s like he doesn't care, not when it busts his arm so bad the shuriken get jammed sideways in the reload compartment, not when his visor’s so badly dented there’s a bruise on his face when he takes it off, nof when his legs have wires melted together and his body isn't functioning right.

Jesse’s never taken as much care with anything as he does with the way he picks at wires in Genji’s limbs, re-attaching and repairing under the technician’s instructions. He’s starting to think their dinner dates are cursed. Every time he plans one (hell, this time he’d even made reservations and done it good and proper) something goes terribly wrong.

“You owe me,” Jesse says as he sticks his tongue out in concentration, watching the cyborg for any signs of discomfort as he locks sensors back into place. “We ain't had our honest to God real damn date yet, so don't you go dying on me, Genji Shimada.”

Between his busted jaw and a nose trickling a steady stream of blood, Genji smiles.

\--

It’s weeks before they try again. Weeks of back to back missions, weeks of not having a free moment to even _call_ his boyfriend. Overwatch has stolen Genji back to Gibraltar, back to sleeping in cold, impersonal barracks and far from Jesse’s arms.

He’s not sure how he does it, but Gabe pulls enough strings (masterful puppeteer that he is) to get Jesse and Genji at the Gibraltar base at the same time and Jesse's so happy he could honestly just kiss him.

_> >be there in five_, Jesse types as he sees the massive monolith of Gibraltar rise out of the pure blue horizon, as he sees the lit-up runway through the fog in front of them.

>> _Already waiting on the landing pad,_ Genji returns.

It isn’t so much a date as it is a frantic, frenzied blur of hands and mouths. Jesse wants to take him to the barracks, knows they’ll be empty in the middle of the morning (and at this point, honestly, he doesn’t really care if they are) but they barely make it halfway through the maze of hallways before Genji is tugging him into an empty room. They don't even bother to close the door, don't even _try_ to care when they hear footsteps outside because after weeks of assignments and tedious reports and _loneliness_ they don't care if the whole base watches as long as their hands are on each other.

“As soon as we get this outta the way,” he pants into Genji's mouth, “I'll take you on your date, yeah?’

He's felt beat-down, worn out and exhausted but Genji's hands bring him back to life. They're on his hips, his arms, curled desperately around his shoulders as he perches on his toes, eager to press as much against him as he can as they kiss. Jesse knows just where to push, knows the spot on Genji’s carefully sculpted hip that releases one very specific panel, the one exposes the sweet slick heat of him to Jesse's fingers and _god._ The way Genji slumps against him is to die for, the way his hands rub low on Jesse's belly, trace the letters on his buckle and drag lower still.

Jesse knows they shouldn't do it here, knows it's a write-up waiting to happen and embarrassing besides, but he knows it's just too easy. Genji, perfect thighs snug around his, Jesse with his pants unzipped and pushed down just enough. It wouldn't be the first time and fuck, that's half the thrill of it -

The siren goes off and Jesse can hear the orders barked into Genji’s comm as clearly as if they were spoken right beside them. _All agents report to transports._ With his face buried in Genji’s neck, he slumps forward as he mumbles “Babe, you gotta?”

His own comm link crackles to life and Gabe is there, finishing off a round of colorful curses as he orders him back to the transport. A terrorist situation in Greece, he's saying, all agents on deck.

“Yeah Gabe, I got it, I got it, “ he says, pressing his finger to the device in his ear for acknowledgment before he turns back to Genji. “I love you and I already miss you.”

Morrison barks “ _Shimada!_ ” across the shared frequency in perfect timing with Gabe’s “ _McCree!”_ and effectively cuts off their flirting and in the second Jesse allows himself to close his eyes and think _why me._ Genji is gone. Jesse can still feel the heat of him against his thigh, still feels the way his lips tingle where they'd been on Genji's.

It's because he said the word _date_ , he knows. Dammit.

“I owe you,” Genji’s voice cuts through Gabe's muffled complaints and Jack’s orders and Jesse could cry at how clear it is, how he can hear every perfect nuance of it. Too soon, there is the telltale click that tells him Genji’s off his frequency and onto the official Overwatch channel, going out there to shine and distract while Blackwatch does the dirty work.

He tries not to think about how lonely he feels and how badly he just wants to take Genji out. Just one date, really. That's all he's asking for.

\--

“We’ve gotta quit meetin’ like this, honey.” Jesse thinks he’s very suave, copying a movie. A movie like the one they could have seen if things hadn't gone to hell _again_.

Genji’s response is a laugh, like music to Jesse’s ears - muffled and metallic as he jumps out of a barrage of incoming bullets. “Oh, Agent McCree, _please_!”

Genji's sword is a blur of silver and green as he takes out the five attackers surrounding him and Jesse thinks that he _probably_ shouldn’t think it’s as hot as he does but _damn_. Cornered, Genji dashes away to where Jesse’s been hiding as he picks people off, tossing his sword to his other hand and flexing his cramped right one. A momentary rest, a moment of calm in the eye of the storm as they wait for more that are inevitably coming.

“I’m startin’ to think the world doesn’t want us to have our date, sugar!” Jesse leans around the corner, placing a bullet smoothly between the eyes of an oncoming attacker and ducking back to reload. “Look at this! We try to see a damn movie and _this_ is what happens?”

“It was because you wanted to see Six Gun Killer instead of the alien movie,” Genji explains way too calmly for the hell that’s raining down around them, flicking a practiced arc of shuriken that lodge in an attacker’s stupidly exposed throat.

“Sorry, I don’t much like tentacles!”

Pushed back again after a few more shots, Jesse ducks into a crevice between two buildings - uneven stone at his back and speckled stucco at his front. There’s barely enough room _for_ him in there, let alone the ninja pressed flush to his chest but god does it feel good to hold him close after weeks without.

“Report your positions!” Morrison shouts over the comms - Jesse can hear it clear as day from Genji’s but instead of responding, Genji takes off his visor, clicks off his comm and looks up at Jesse like he's the only damn thing in the world. There’s a _look_ Genji gets in the middle of a fight, all dark-eyed and dangerous and it makes Jesse _burn_. Genji’s wearing it now, looking up at him like he wants to eat him alive and Jesse knows he’d let him, knows in hindsight that it's probably a good goddamn thing they couldn't make their movie. They never would have made it through, hungry for each other as they are.

“I ever tell you I think it’s real hot that you could kill me in one swipe?” Jesse asks, swallowing nervously, breath catching in his throat from the rush of the fight and the feel of Genji against him. He can hear shouting, hear bullets pinging off buildings and boots stomping past but hidden away, they’re safe and they're together.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Genji replies, teasing. “It’s all over your face. When this is all over, we’ll try our date again.”

This time, they say it in unison. _I owe you_ , the words muffled into each other’s mouths as they kiss. There’s a ferocity there, like their lives depend on it. Maybe they do. Jesse feels like he could take on the whole damn world if he had to, if it meant Genji Shimada was waiting at the end of it all for him.

\--

It’s not much, and Jesse knows it. But it’s _theirs_. Their small little patch of heaven above tarmac still bleeding heat from the sun, their little secluded corner of rooftop at a facility long-abandoned. The sunset on the ocean is prettier than anything he’s ever seen, or maybe it’s just the company making it seem sweeter.

The plating of Genji’s armor dances with colors like a rainbow - newly polished and repaired. It takes Jesse's breath away, how much lighter he seems, how much his teacher has helped him, how much he's healed.

“I know this ain’t much of a date,” Jesse starts, and Genji reaches over to press a finger to his mouth, silencing him. _Shh._

“This _is_ a date.”

“In that case,” Jesse begins sheepishly, retrieving them from the beaker he’d borrowed from Winston to use as a makeshift vase, “I brought you some flowers.”

Holding them out to him, he scratches the back of his head nervously, suddenly aware of how shabby he seems. Ratty old serape, dusty clothes. Couldn't he at least have taken a shower? The barracks are still functioning even if there are no Overwatch agents to fill them.

“I tried to pick really pretty ones. There was a green one I would’ve loved to get for you, but some monkeys already didn’t take too kindly to me invading their space...”

“You just got back to Gibraltar and you’re already upsetting its residents?” Genji teases. Ever since the human traffic at the base trickled to nothing, the macaques from the old wildlife reserve have been running amok again, turning the watchpoint into their own personal playground. Jesse suspects Winston has something to do with it but the guy just won’t own up to it. He doesn’t press him too much. He’s just grateful enough to him for letting them hide out here at Gibraltar, grateful for somewhere safe and familiar when it seems like their entire worlds have been turned upside down.

“Man, I guess…” Jesse sighs, nudging a fat bumblebee off of one of Genji's flowers with his knuckle. “This place is theirs now. Winston feeds them, I think, that’s why they keep hanging around so close.”

Genji unclicks his visor and holds the flowers to his face, petals kissing his lips. Jesse is jealous of them, green with envy that their soft petals get to feel Genji's mouth before he does. “These smell incredible.”

Jesse has a basket packed with a lunch: two sandwiches: peanut butter and jelly. Simple enough. Some bananas, a protein bar - everything Winston had in his workshop. It’s shabby and he fucking knows it but it’s _theirs_ , dammit.

It is their first date and it is their hundredth. They are kids in love, staggering on shaky newborn legs and at the same time they are old souls, set in stone, years of love wearing away sharp edges, smoothing out the hurt. Jesse has celebrated an anniversary with Genji each time he’s closed his eyes, lived through thousands of lifetimes over the span of a few hours of stolen sleep as long as he meets Genji in his dreams.

It's a date years in the making, long overdue, but a date nonetheless. Genji says “I love you,” as he pulls Jesse’s hat off his head, says with fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck: “I have always loved you.”

Jesse knows it was worth the wait. He loves Genji's sharp edges just as much as the softness. The dark as well as the light, the bits of the Genji he knew before bleeding into the Genji he's gotten to re-learn now. The patient, learned playfulness as well as the anger still hiding in his heart.

“I'll love you until the day I die,” Jesse says, and even though he's never really believed in it until their reunion he has to add: “And then every time I see you after that.”

They'll have a dozen dates, one hundred, one _thousand._ The world is changing again, and it is theirs to face together.


End file.
